


Space Madness

by kosmeja



Category: Metroid Series
Genre: F/F, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmeja/pseuds/kosmeja
Summary: There's no one to blame but yourself.





	Space Madness

**"Coordinates set to Planet ID: 470218, Identification: Zeebes."**

The robotic voice of the spaceships navigational control echos through the empty bay; neon greens, reds, and blues flickering off the reflection of spotless metal tile. The Stingray moves at light speed throughout its galaxy, but still, the ship is silent. Engines never roar like the diesel ones she was used to, there's no monstrous rumble of machinery and gears coming to life beneath the hull. Everything runs smoothly and even the autopilot, a relatively _new_ feature, was working without fail. Everything slots together and works overtime to propel a single bounty hunter to her destination. The celestial bodies pass by too quickly for her to admire from the cockpit, where a wide-paneled window revealed vast empty space. They were moving too fast to see anything but this emptiness, sadly. And the announcement of the ship's location was the first voice she had heard in a long time. 

Anxiety begins to creep. Slow in her bones like molasses, the pilot of the ship tenses and untenses her hands slowly, shaking the numbness that came with hours of inactivity. There's a looming threat to her mission, the circumstances in which she received the distress signal that speaks of something ancient and sinister. Even in the heavy blue power suit provided by her employer, the girl felt utterly defenseless. She had _years_ of experience beneath her belt. Countless hostile forces had been slain by her wit and brawn. But still, she knows the truth, understands the futility of experience in the face of the unknown.

"A black hole is always a black hole, no matter who it consumes."

The words ring hollow through the corridor, just as the voice of her navigation did moments before. With the visor and face guard, her speech holds a slight metallic quality, like speaking through a tin can. Once upon a time, she had been told that saying by a superior. In a faraway time, before superiors were simply colleagues or corrupt hunters that she was tasked to bring down, she had been a rookie cadet with dreams of seeing the worlds that laid beyond her little colony. She had been told that by a _graduate_ of the Galactic Federations Academy, it was the parting advice the woman had given them all, before allowing their commencement ceremony to begin. At the time, no one really understood. The Chancellor had spoken very highly of this Officer, insisted that she was the best of the best, an early graduate who broke records and ended up in the top of her class. And yet... the only words of advice she had to offer the room were some morose lines from an outdated poem? The young woman had thought it to be _bullshit_ back then. 

But the longer she stared into the abyss, the more she began to understand where that bounty hunter had been trying to convey. In the line of duty they had committed to, the mission to protect the innocent and bring justice to those wrong, serve the will of the Galactic Federation and act as their shield, there were some things that couldn't be said aloud. Strength doesn't win you every battle, and you will _not_ always win, even if your guns are bigger and the enemy is few. Surviving was a primary goal, but there were times where the mission was more important, where your life was simply a catalyst for a greater purpose. The stars and sky weren't all that they were jacked up to be, and celestial bodies were simply hot gas created spontaneously. 

No matter how much experience you may gain, no matter who you were, the world would continue to be merciless. The void would consume you, too.

The Stingray eventually pulls the Huntress out of her reminiscing when the speakers emit a light blip, signaling to her. "Planet ID: 470218, Tag Zeebes has been identified. Preparing for landing maneuvers." It's a warning to the woman that soon, she would no longer have the luxury of thinking. Zeebes was a battlefield, last she heard of it, and the _only_ reason they were sending a mere courier there was because she was the closest when the distress signal went off. Unlucky, as always. At the very least, the planet looks pretty from an aerial view. Its seas are a luscious blue-green that glow from a way that speaks to irradiation of some sort, the landmass visible to her was cracked and frayed, earth the color of magenta. And the closer she draws to the planet, the more she is able to see. The strange color can be attributed to the fact that the trees seemed to be made of _clay_ , a pair of stars shining down on them and cracking the poor plants further. The marine's eyes travel to the vast emptiness of earth fairly close to her destination, the Stingray skimming along the land until it slowly pulled to a stop.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how queer it was. For all the talks of Space Pirate activity in this sector, the planet seemed rather... tranquil. Where were the corpses of animals and hunters? The bloodshed she feared? What could _possibly_ have caused this bounty hunter any level of distress? Was her intelligence flawed? Was she somehow on the _wrong_ planet Zeebes? There's no feasible reason for this mistake, and the woman feels her throat close up in fear. Was she being lead into a trap, then? Fed false information, lead to a ghost town of a planet, just so the Galactic Federation could blow her up? It seemed... improbable at best, considering the fact that she hadn't _done_ anything to earn such vicious treatment, and it wasn't cheap to blow up a planet. If they wanted the woman dead, they would simply have someone assassinate her, right? Her mind is running a mile a minute as the ship finally lands. The fact that the autopilot shuts itself up doesn't do anything for her nerves as she scurries off, a small blinking beacon in her hands.

The sooner she found that distress signal, the sooner her worries would be put to rest.

* * *

In all her years of service, Samus had never doubted her own madness. It took a certain stalk of crazy to _willingly_ work for the Galactic Federation, and a completely different level of devotion to do what she did. Rise to the top, throw away accolades and money in return for flexibility, the freedom of choosing her own hunts just so she may pursue the beast that took everything from her. She doubted that anyone who was on her level (which was roughly about ten people in the entire cosmos) didn't make it to the top with a sound mind. Some didn't even make it with a sound body if she could remember how disfigured some of her colleagues had been when she'd last seen them.

But the important part is that they made it there alive.

Following the explosion of the acidic spitfire, there's a darkness that settles over her vision. Not the sort of hazy black that only promises slumber or the fade of consciousness, but the dark that's cast like a heavy shadow, visor dimming the flare of everything in sight. The blue and green sparks of a power generator look gray to her, and her own blood, as the orange and yellow suit she wore was riddled with shrapnel, looks faded already. Samus knows this is supposed to be the end, and yet the cold embrace of death doesn't sweep over. She's still on her feet, power armor cracking and groaning with the damage done by the beast. The agony in her rib cage, the reoccurring torture that was now breathing was still something she could actively feel. She's conscious and pissed about every waking moment of it. Even in death, she couldn't be granted peace. As much as her knees may scream for her to just sit, the warrior readies another charged blast, arm cannon held in the general direction of the beast.

Above her, the hulking behemoth of an arch-nemesis roars again. The pirate known as Ridley swings it's over-sized talons down at the bounty hunter, finally catching her in a state of weakness, and takes a long swipe. She knows this dance, knows the patterns of the predator and knows that it's feasting now. She's supposed to evade, roll out of the way, slide under it, do something other than taking the blow. But for the first time in her natural life, Samus Aran finds herself frozen in genuine fear. She doesn't want to die, doesn't want to lose here. The ship hanger is in utter disarray and the bounty hunter is forced to her back, taking in the sight of precious engineering work and research going up in flames. The alarm klaxons blare against the shards of her broken helmet, and even though her visor is cracked and filled with static, she could see just how close the Space Pirate had come. Acid drips onto her from the maw of the creature, bloodied teeth giving it a Lovecraftian appearance. Through the way its mouth twitched, it looked as if it were smiling, rejoicing over the capture of its prey. Beady gray eyes dart between her face, and the wound left on her abdomen by its claws, considering for a moment. Finally, it bellows and Samus knows, this is where her life ends. Her eyes close, and the warmth of a swift death are there, right on her. _Finally._

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?!" Once again, she is interrupted in her final moments, swiftly snatched away from the lovely dance that Ridley had created for them. But... this time, it's not by a pain that wouldn't subside, no. Samus could manage if it was just the pain. If it were something internal, something she could mask or control, she would be just fine with the predicament because a delayed death meant another chance. But it was a chance she could control. In this situation, in the _only_ possible way her mission could be screwed, it takes a nosedive and the huntress is pained, because she was so close to completion.

Now she had to live and save this cadet before the idiot got themselves killed along with her.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of about 15 years of untapped emotion I feel toward Samus Aran. Like with my other fics, there might be more to come depending on how I'm feeling.


End file.
